


JimPain Snippet

by elixia13



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elixia13/pseuds/elixia13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim gets into trouble when he doesn't realize he's been hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JimPain Snippet

Jim gasped as the perp's size 12 boot crashed into his side, the swift roundhouse kick forcing him towards the brick wall behind him. Pain lanced through him, but he forced himself up to run after the fleeing man. Unconsciously, he turned the pain dial down as far as it would go, forcing the pain to the side. Moments later, he caught the perp in a flying tackle and breathed a sigh of relief that he had not been injured.

When back-up units arrived to take the perp back to the station for booking, Jim left them to their task and pulled out his cell phone to call Simon.

"Banks."

"Yeah, Simon, it's Jim. I caught Jensen fleeing down the alleyway behind the girl's apartment building. He's in custody."

"Good. You coming back in to do the paperwork?"

"Actually, Simon, if it's all the same to you, I'll take care of that tomorrow. It's 5:30, and I'm closer to the loft than the station."

"Yeah, and tomorrow Sandburg will be back at the station, right? So you can get him to do your paperwork?"

Jim grinned despite himself. "Something like that."

"Okay, Jim. See you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Simon."

Jim closed the phone and headed home, feeling unusually tired for the time of day. It had been a long week, especially with Blair taking part in a conference at the university. Since the conference was at Rainier he was still in town, but the workshops kept him busy all day, and the requisite social functions kept him away from home until late in the evening.

All Jim wanted to do was go home, heat up some of the spaghetti from yesterday, and go to bed. Then again, the thought of food awoke an edge of nausea in his stomach. He'd just watch some TV and go to bed.

Back at the loft, Jim kicked off his shoes and sat down on the couch, looking forward to a couple hours of uninterrupted entertainment. As he watched, he noticed that his vision was beginning to gray out. He slumped back into the couch and closed his eyes, surprised at how exhausted he was. His eyes snapped back open as he felt the room begin to tilt. He realized it was more than just exhaustion. The dizziness was overwhelming him, and he was finding it more difficult to breathe.

He knew he had to get up and get to the phone. Call Blair. Call 911. Something... Something was wrong... The thought slipped from his mind as he lost consciousness, falling sideways into the darkness.

Blair walked into the darkened loft, buzzing slightly from the excitement of the party itself more than the small amount of alcohol he'd consumed. Observing the absence of light beyond the mutely flickering television, he assumed that Jim had fallen asleep in front of the tube. He knew he'd better send Jim up to bed unless he wanted to incur the wrath of a stiff-necked partner come morning.

Not wanting to shock the Sentinel's sight with too much sudden light, Blair flicked on the kitchen light before proceeding over to the couch. "Jim?" Blair paused next to the couch, surprised to find Jim lying sideways on the couch with his feet on the floor. An awkward position. A wrong position. Blair's voice deepened with concern as he bent down to jostle the still shoulder below. "Hey, Jim?"

When he got no response, Blair moved swiftly to turn on the nearest lamp. He hissed at what he saw, groaning to himself. "What the hell have you done, man?"

The Sentinel was frighteningly pale even in the warm light of the loft, his usual good-health washed out of his face, leaving his features hard and spare. Though a sheen of sweat coated his skin, his body shivered in the evening-cool loft. Blair took Jim's clammy hand in his and felt for the pulse, finding it weak and fast, matching the quick, shallow breaths that moved Jim's chest.

Blair patted Jim's face lightly, calling his name. "Jim, hey, Jim? Wake up, man. What's going on here?" When his touch brought no response, he shouted in near-panic. "JIM!"

At that the Sentinel roused. "Mmmm, Chief?" He opened his eyes and looked up, blinking. "Something's...something's wrong."

"Yeah, I can see that, Jim. What happened? Are you sick? Hurt?"

"No. Just...cold...," Jim murmured, the effort of speaking leaving him short of breath.

"Damn." Blair hauled Jim's legs up to hang over the arm of the sofa, positioning him so that his head rested flat on the cushions, and then covered him with the throw they kept handy. He cupped a hand to Jim's cool, moist cheek and rubbed lightly with his thumb to focus Jim's attention.

"Jim, I need to know what happened to you, today."

"Nothing," came the whispered reply.

"Anything with your senses?"

"No."

"Did you get hurt? A fight maybe? Anything?"

"No...um. Got kicked."

"Where, Jim?"

"Stomach."

Blair hurriedly pushed back the blanket and undid Jim's belt and zipper, pulling his shirt up and out of the way. "Oh, God." He gingerly touched the purpling edges of the large, angry bruise that spread over Jim's midsection. "Oh my God, Jim! Can't you feel that, man? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Hmm? No..."

"Hold on, Jim, tell me if this hurts." He reached up to Jim's earlobe and dug his thumbnail into the tender flesh.

"Nope."

"Damn, Jim." Blair took his Sentinel's hand and held it tightly. "Okay, I need you to focus and look and the pain dial. Tell me where it's at."

"Down. All...the way. I don't...remember..."

"You don't remember doing it? That's okay, Jim. I want you to turn it up *very* slowly. Just a notch or two. *Slowly.*"

Jim's pale face tightened with concentration, and he gasped, attempting to curl in on himself as the pain hit him. "Fuck. Ahhh...Blair...no..."

Blair rubbed Jim's shoulder comfortingly with his free hand. "Too far, Jim. Back a notch. We need it up just high enough to know it's there, okay?"

When Jim relaxed back into the couch again, Blair stood up, disengaging himself from the Sentinel. "I'll be right back." He raced over to the phone, quickly calling 911, before ducking into his room to pull the comforter off of his bed. Returning to Jim's side, he spread the heavier blanket over Jim's shivering body."

"What's...happening...Chief?" Jim looked up into his friend's eyes, confusion clear in his expression.

"I think you got hurt today when you got kicked, Jim. You should have gotten the medics to check you out, but that's not important now. I think you're bleeding inside, and you're in shock. That's why you feel so bad. Man, I can't believe you had the pain turned down all evening. Believe me, we'll deal with that later." Blair stopped and took a deep breath, realizing that Jim was hurting and probably wasn't up to a Sandburg monologue. "Help is on the way, okay?"

"Cold." The single tremulous word weakened Blair knees, bringing him down to the floor next to the couch. He carefully wrapped his arms around Jim's shoulders, hoping to impart some warmth with the closeness. "I know, man. You're going to be okay."


End file.
